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PNPC Ensign Kirky Bean — Wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend

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(( HMS Excalibur, Caribbean Sea, Earth – Unknown time ))

The feeling of being transported yet again across space and time was, unfortunately, becoming old-hat to Kirky.  Even so, this time it felt different.  Physically different.  Kirky lacked the vocabulary to describe the feeling, but it was akin to being rescued in an emergency beam-out and re-materializing on the transporter pad in a different position.  On Honorious, Kirky had been standing by the helm, gesturing as he pleaded his case to his crewmates about the lack of causality.

Here–wherever here was–Kirky was standing, but found it difficult to move.  His arms were restrained fast against his sides and his ankles were lashed together by some kind of clangy metal.  Whatever he was standing on was moving underfoot, almost undulating up and down in a slow, rhythmic fashion.  He felt a salty breeze against his face, but only part of it.  His vision was obscured by a cloth blindfold, and another cloth was tied fast over his mouth.  He slid his bare foot across the surface upon which he stood and picked up a splinter in his big toe.  As he struggled against his restraints, the pieces all assembled to form a picture.  A bummer of a picture.

Bean: oO Dude, I’m walking a plank. Oo

Although he could neither see nor speak, Kirky could hear everything happening around him.  There was all kinds of hustle and bustle and the intermittent cannon fire, the noise of which made Kirky’s ears sting each time.

Gott:  Is this an ocean?!  Where are the walls!  What's that noise!?  My ears hurt so much I can barely hear a thing!

Gnaxac: OWWWWWW!

K. Morgan: Where are we?

A. Morgan: Isn't this that place that you humans call hell?

Kirky wasn’t sure from which part of the boat his plank extended, but it was apparently not a very well traversed part.

Bean: ::chews gag::  Mmmmph.

Gott:  What?!  You'll have to speak up, I said my ears hurt!


K. Morgan: Does anyone know where we are?

Thornton: Judging from our uniforms, I’d say this is an old Earth sailing vessel about five or six hundred years ago, give or take a few decades.

Kirky was grateful for the context clues, although he wished that someone would come over and rescue him.  The plank on which he stood wobbled with every wave, and keeping his balance was a challenge.  He took a deep breath, focused on his core, and lamented that he went out for lacrosse instead of rhythmic gymnastics as a youth.

A. Morgan: That tracks. What do we do about it?

Bean: ::chews gag::  Mmmmph.

K. Morgan: I’m from Earth, but I don’t know anything about this time period other than it’s… early.

Kirky was unprepared for another volley of cannon fire.  He instinctively flinched, which upset his careful balancing act.  The splinter in his toe was really starting to hurt.

Thornton: CEASE FIRE! ::she waved her hands above her head!:: CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!

Thankfully, whoever the crew of this ship were decided to listen to Commander Thornton.  After everything quieted down, all he could hear were the sounds of waves breaking against their boat and the flapping of sails as they caught the wind.

Thornton: I don’t think we’re supposed to be pirates, if that helps. ::she shrugged.:: These uniforms seem to be military. But that’s about as far as I know.

A. Morgan: Playing pirates might have been more fun. ::Frowning.:: Alright. Let's see what we can do and find out about this latest plot twist.

Kirky disagreed emphatically with Commander Morgan’s statement about fun and pirates.  If a navy ship was forcing him to walk the plank, what would have a bunch of outlaws done?

Bean: ::chews gag::  Mmmmph.

Gott / Gnaxac: response

K. Morgan: Great… I don’t suppose we can just call up CloQ and beg for mercy, can we?!

A. Morgan: Actually...

CloQ.  CloQ.  The jerkface Q that put everyone through all that Klingon stuff last year had struck again.  There was nothing any of them could do.  Encounters with Qs lasted as long as the Qs wanted them to last.

Bean: ::chews gag::  Mmmmph.

Gott / Gnaxac: response

Barrelman: Vessels ahoy!

Kirky knew what that meant.  More boats.  More chance of someone spotting him.  More chance of someone helping him back down off the plank before he tumbled over into the water.

Thornton: Looks like we might have a friendly face or two joining us.

A. Morgan: I'm not sure I believe it. Commander MacKenzie? Niac? Talos?

K. Morgan: ::with a slight smirk:: Now we’re getting somewhere…

Kirky hoped he could get somewhere, too.  Somewhere else.  A spray of ocean hit him in the face, moistening the cloths covering his eyes and mouth.  He started moving his facial muscles to nudge the damp fabrics out of position.

Bean: ::chews gag::  Mmmmph.

Gott / Gnaxac / K. Morgan: Response.

Thornton: Do you think this is intentional? Do you think that CloQ means for us to encounter them here?

A. Morgan: Oh, I'm certain it's intentional. From what I understand, those creatures, beings, whatever, love to play games with humanity.

K. Morgan: Intentional or unintentional, I’m glad to see some members of the senior staff.

Bean: ::chews gag::  Mmmmph.

Gott / Gnaxac: response


(( Several Minutes Later ))

Kirky dangled patiently off the poop as the crew of the sailing ship Excalibur hauled aboard some of the starship Excalibur’s missing officers.  When they’d all been brought on deck and checked out from their own ordeal, Kirky–well, Kirky just stood there.

Thornton: It’s good to see you. ::she said, full of gratitude.:: Does anyone know what is going on here?

MacKenzie: It’s CloQ. Instead of killing us all at the same time over and over, his new trick seems to be making us relive… less than stellar moments in history.

Kirky nodded enthusiastically as he chomped on the corner of his blindfold, which he’d just succeeded in dislodging from around his right ear.  Less than stellar sounded about right.

Dakora / Niac: response

K. Morgan: Glad to know we’re not the only ones out here, at least.

Bean: ::chews gag::  Mmmmph.

Gott / Gnaxac: response

Thornton: We’ve been, uh, falling through time. So far we’ve been to the Romulan Supernova, almost swallowed by a Doomsday Machine and faced Cardassians in battle… and now here.

Kirky lost the last half of what Thornton was saying because he was momentarily disturbed by a seagull who mistook his face for a snack.  Without the use of his arms to shoo the bird away, he suffered the double indignity of being pecked and nipped at by a beak, only for the gull to change its mind and fly off.

Bean:  oO Dude, lame. Oo

MacKenzie: It sounds like we’ve been going through our own versions of hell, then. How did this all start?

Dakora / Niac: Response.

A. Morgan: I saw the Q take the Captain and Commander Adea. We've been working on finding answers ever since.

K. Morgan: Across several hundred years, it would seem.

Bean: ::chews gag::  Mmmmph.

The seagull returned, perhaps intrigued by Kirky’s muffled vocalizations.  He sputtered and shook his head to startle the bird into retreating, but the bird declined, choosing instead to perch atop Kirky’s head.

Seagull:  Squawk.

Bean:  oO Don’t rub it in, bro. Oo

Gott / Gnaxac: response

Thornton: One thing we did find is that the entire area appears to be saturated in chroniton particles. I’d also wager so are we. That might be what is facilitating our movements across time.

MacKenzie: If that’s the case, that leads me to believe that CloQ can’t keep it together, thereby causing our respective scenarios to merge.

Kirky hoped that whatever was troubling CloQ would get worse, and pronto.  Hopefully whatever construct they were in would collapse altogether before the seagull completely nested in his perfect hair.  He winced as he felt its beak peck at his scalp and nip at his scalp, presumably looking for a home.

Bean:  oO Gullermo, dude, be cool. Oo

Dakora  / Niac: Response.

A. Morgan: How do we go somewhere else? Preferably somewhere with a computer.

Bean: ::chews gag::  Mmmmph.

Gott / Gnaxac: response

MacKenzie: And impulse engines… (beat) I hypothesize that the increased chroniton particles has something to do with our realities merging. How can we exploit that to our advantage?

The seagull flew away and Kirky breathed a sigh of relief, only to feel its flappity webbed feet splat down on his head once again a moment later.  The movements half-hurt, half-tickled, and Kirky realized that Gullermo was weaving a twig into his hair.

Dakora / Niac / Gott / Gnaxac / A. Morgan: response

MacKenzie: But how do we do that with the resources currently at our disposal?

Dakora / Niac / Gott / Gnaxac / A. Morgan: response

Bean: ::chews gag::  Mmmmph.



Tag / TBC


PNPC Ensign Kirkington Algernon-Greene “Kirky” Bean Shuttlecraft Pilot and Relief Helm Officer USS Excalibur NCC-41903-A D238804DS0

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